


Stay

by petit_chou



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Timeless Weekly Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petit_chou/pseuds/petit_chou
Summary: “Uh, hey Lucy,” Rufus says with forced nonchalance. “How long have you been standing there?”Lucy doesn’t reply, but the look on her face clearly conveyslong enough.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Way back during week four of the challenge, I posted this to [my tumblr](http://parksandt-rex.tumblr.com/post/159015197619/timeless-fanfic-challenge-week-4), but I finally got around to getting an account here, so, um, better late than never?   
>    
> For the prompt:  
> “How long have you been standing there?” 
> 
> “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

_7:21_

Wyatt frowns at his illuminated phone screen, the numbers seeming to mock him.

“Seriously?” Apparently it’s not just time that’s mocking him right now. “That’s like, the fifth time you’ve looked at your phone.”

Wyatt scowls. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

Rufus just shrugs, takes a sip of his beer. “Not hard when you’ve looked five times in as many minutes.” He softens a little. “Relax, man. She’ll be here.”

Wyatt just sighs, taking a sip of his own drink, resolutely _not_ thinking about the million and one horrible things that could happen to Lucy, because they’re fighting back against a government conspiracy, one that does not take kindly to those who disavow them, especially when that person is “royalty.” 

“Hey.” Rufus clinks the bottom of his bottle against Wyatt’s glass to get his attention. “I know it sucks. You got used to her being there, got used to knowing that if something happened, you were only in the next room. I get it. You remember when Jiya got released from the hospital and I stayed with her for a few days? It was tough to go back home.”

Rufus is right, of course. Wyatt had definitely gotten used to Lucy staying with him. It was only supposed to be for a few days, initially. In the aftermath of the chaos that ensued with the Mothership being stolen—again—and Lucy’s return to Mason Industries pale and shaking ( _“My mom is one of them. She’s Rittenhouse.”_ ) Lucy had nowhere to go, couldn’t go back home, and Wyatt hadn’t even hesitated in inviting her to stay. 

She’d only had a couple of days to process everything when they were called in. The Mothership had been located and the three of them were off to chase the mysterious Rittenhouse operative—who they later learned was none other than Emma Whitmore—through time. They’d have a day or two at most back in the present before they were off again, and just like that, a couple of days turned into a couple of weeks turned into a couple of months. 

But now Lucy has her own place, and Wyatt is clearly not hiding his concern very well. “I just…I don’t trust them not to hurt her, ‘royalty’ or not. Especially with that asshole ex-fiancé of hers getting arrested and Lucy cutting off contact with her mother. These are not people who just take ‘no’ for an answer, Rufus.”

“I know. Like I said, I get it.” And then, slyly, as he takes another drink, “Plus, ya know, you liked living with her.”

Wyatt glares at his friend across the table. “We weren’t ‘living together,’ Rufus.”

Rufus leans back in his chair, amused. “Sure, man. If you say so.”

Downing the last of the whiskey, Wyatt resists the urge to grab his phone and check the time yet again, spinning his now-empty glass around on the tabletop. Maybe Rufus is right about this too. Probably. (He is.) Wyatt sighs. “Am I that transparent?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Thanks.” But it’s hard to deny that having Lucy there had been…nice, and not simply because it slightly lessened his anxiety about her safety. The only moment of awkwardness came when, upon walking into the apartment, it occurred to Wyatt the only two places to sleep in his tiny place were either the couch or his bed. But it was dealt with easy enough: they could just take turns, Lucy suggested (Which they did. Except for those first few nights when the shock and stress had Lucy waking from nightmares, fighting against the blankets around her, believing she was back in that car, drowning, panicking, unable to breathe. And he would wake her— _You’re safe, it’s ok, I’m here_ —and she’d press her face against his chest and whisper _stay_ ). 

It had become normal, going to and returning from missions together, sitting down to watch a movie together after making dinner (well, after Wyatt made dinner because Lucy’s clumsiness regarding windows and horses also extended to kitchen appliances), making room for all her things…he chuckles.

“What?” Rufus asks, curiously. 

“She had a few bags, the things she packed when she left her mother’s. One of the suitcases barely had any clothes in it—it was full of books, mostly history and biographies. She had them stacked all over the bedroom.” He smiles fondly. “Had some of her own, too, the ones she wrote. She caught me reading one, once. The one about Lincoln.” 

“Ok, yeah,” Rufus says definitively. “As someone who was you not that long ago, you need to just tell her how you feel. And if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s feeling the same. I mean, she did lie to freakin’ Homeland Security to help you steal a damn time machine. If that’s not—” 

“I _know_ ,” Wyatt grits out, as Rufus frowns at the sudden shift in mood. But he wasn’t _there_ , he didn’t see the look on her face… “Lucy didn’t just lie for me. She was willing to go with me, to _change history_ —the thing she’s supposed to _protect_ —to help me get my _wife_ back.” Unable to look at Rufus’ concerned expression, Wyatt drops his gaze to the table, desperately ignoring the gathering tears that burn behind his eyes. “I couldn’t let her risk the deal to get her sister back, not for me. She was worried about me getting kicked off the team, about what could happen, and I…I told her it didn’t matter as long as I got Jess back.” Wyatt shakes his head, clears his throat of the rising emotion as he remembers Lucy’s face falling as her heart broke, her soft oh as she lowered herself to the stairs. “And she cried and I...I just stood there. I just stood there like a jackass, Rufus, and I couldn’t even _look_ at her, because if I did, I’d have gone over to her, and if I held her, I…” He takes a deep breath before finally admitting out loud the truth he’d barely acknowledged to himself. “I think I would have stayed.”

“Um—”

When Wyatt finally looks up, feeling like a bit of the weight on his chest has been lifted, it’s to see Rufus looking not at him, but somewhere past Wyatt’s shoulder. “What are you…?” He turns. And freezes. _Oh_.

Because standing a few feet behind him, eyes wide and shining in the dim bar lighting, is Lucy.

“Uh, hey Lucy,” Rufus says with forced nonchalance. “How long have you been standing there?” 

Lucy doesn’t reply, but the look on her face clearly conveys _long enough_. 

As she slowly walks over to the table, Rufus jumps up so fast he practically tips over his chair in his haste to get away from the tension that’s settled around them. “I’m just gonna go somewhere…not here.”

Wyatt watches Lucy carefully as she takes the seat nearest his. He wants to explain, apologize, maybe, for his inability to tell her this before now, but all he can get out is her name. “Lucy…”

Before he can speak, she shakes her head, and, surprising him, reaches out to take his hand. “I couldn’t hug you goodbye,” she says softly. Off his confused look, she explains, “I couldn’t hug you for the same reason you couldn’t look at me.” She looks down at their hands for a long moment before meeting his eyes again. Voice wavering only a little, she whispers, “Because I would’ve asked you to stay. And that would’ve been selfish of me. I couldn’t be the reason you didn’t try.”

It’s surprise, yes, but also relief, that bubbles up in his chest, because it’s confirmation that these feelings between them are real, that whatever this is, she feels it as deeply as he does. Wyatt laces their fingers together, even as both their hands shake. “Lucy. What I said then, about how nothing else mattered—”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Because you need to know.” He squeezes her hand, brushes his thumb soothingly across her knuckles the way he should have done _that_ day. “A part of me will always love Jess. But Lucy, I meant what I said about focusing on the present, about being open to possibilities.” He takes a steadying breath. “And I’d like them to be with you.”

The watery smile she gives him is breathtaking. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And also? You could never be selfish, Lucy. What you did was probably the least selfish thing anyone has done for me.”

Lucy brushes away the few tears that escaped, this time squeezing his hand, and giving a tiny shrug. “You deserve to be happy, Wyatt.”

He leans in, keeps his eyes steady on hers so that there is no mistaking what he means when he says softly, “I am.” Wyatt isn’t sure how long they sit that way, eyes locked and hands clasped, wearing matching ridiculous grins, though it seems like hours and mere seconds simultaneously. 

That is, until a familiar voice says, “Are you two happening? Is it happening?” and Lucy and Wyatt spring apart, hands falling back to their sides as they look up to find Rufus smirking down at them. 

Wyatt shoots him a glare, while Lucy just shakes her head, huffing out a laugh. “I guess we deserved that.” 

“Yep.” Rufus returns to his previously vacated chair, still entirely too amused by it all. “He holds up his phone, waves it. “Can I tell Jiya it’s happening?” He teases, not quite able to let it go.

“Shut up,” Wyatt grouses, but there’s no real irritation behind it. The three of them order another round of drinks, and, well, if Lucy moves her chair a little closer to Wyatt’s, and if Wyatt holds her hand beneath the table, and if they sneak shy glances at each other every so often, then no one has to know. 

(Rufus totally knows.)

Eventually they agree to call it a night, knowing they may be hopping in the Lifeboat and jumping through time soon enough, something best done with at least a few hours of sleep behind them. Lucy took a cab to the bar, so Wyatt offers to drive her back to her place.

He walks her inside and to her apartment, and though they both know it’s not really necessary, neither are ready to say goodnight quite yet. They stand together outside her door, Lucy fumbling with her keys, but not making a move to unlock the door and go inside. “Goodnight, Wyatt,” she murmurs, though the step she takes moves her closer to him rather than further away. 

“Goodnight. Ma’am,” he replies, voice coming out lower than he intends. He takes a small step forward, as Lucy tilts her head just a fraction. 

Wyatt isn’t sure how long they stand there or who leans in first, but suddenly her lips are on his and she tastes like the white wine she drank, and his head feels fuzzy, his pulse racing. Lucy’s hand cradles his jaw as he curves one hand over her hip, the other tangling in her hair, holding her closer, and his heart is thundering so loud against his ribs he’s sure Lucy can hear it.

When they eventually part, breathing a little heavier than normal, Lucy finally unlocks her door with the keys she’s somehow still holding on to. Just inside the doorway, she turns to face him. This time, when she straightens the collar of his jacket, she’s beaming. 

She holds out her hand. He takes it. “Stay?”

(He does.)


End file.
